


Devil, Devil

by EternalAgape



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Yuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Demon Deals, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon, but not too much Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EternalAgape/pseuds/EternalAgape
Summary: The path of Viktor’s career was determined by a single deal – a demon deal.  Now, he needs to find a way to save his own life before he turns 30, but how could anyone outwit a demon?
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 15
Kudos: 110
Collections: Inspired by Music





	1. Chapter 1

How quickly he sold his soul – and for such a cheap price.

What were medals? What were titles and accolades and sponsorships and fans when he hadn’t _truly_ earned them, and now his time was quickly running out?

[Devil, Devil]

_January 2018_

Viktor had gotten careless. He had been changing in his room one day, and he had forgotten to turn around. He _always_ turned around, always showing Yuuri his back rather than his chest – rather than the harsh red devil mark branded over his heart.

All of that led to him sitting on the couch with his fiancé – soon to be ex-fiancé? – as he said the words he’d never told anyone before: “I made a deal with the devil.”

“You _what_?”

“I can understand if you…won’t support my skating anymore because of this,” Viktor responded sullenly. “I understand if you don’t want to stay with me.”

“You _sold your soul_?”

“I was young and stupid, and-”

“Oh, you were _stupid_ , alright!” Yuuri raged. “Viktor, _why_?”

“It…I was on the edge, Yuuri. I was on the edge of making it, and if I could get just a _little bit better_ , I would have the funding I needed to support myself. I wouldn’t have to rely on Yakov anymore. I wouldn’t have to burden him.”

“Oh Viktor…” Yuuri murmured, reaching across the empty expanse of couch that was between them – it felt less like an uncrossable chasm now that Yuuri knew the truth – to squeeze his hands tightly. “Viktor, you were never a burden.” Viktor grimaced but did not respond. “What was the deal you made?”

“Well, basically that my natural talent would be enhanced, and-”

“No, no,” Yuuri interrupted. “I need it word for word, Viktor. What were you promised?”

Viktor sighed and stood up, going to the wall where his skate bag rested. He reached a hand into a small inner pocket, pulling out a tiny notebook. He thrust it at Yuuri, shamefully adding, “Here. It’s all in here.”

Yuuri carefully took the worn notebook, quickly flipping through to see that it contained scores and results and GOEs, some with red lines through them and lower numbers written in the same striking red pen.

He flipped back to the first page, finding the answer he needed in Viktor’s teenage handwriting.

_In exchange for his soul, I will ensure Viktor Nikiforov’s incredible talent. He shall win any and every skating event he enters, and his walls will be lined with gold. In exchange, Viktor Nikiforov shall die upon his thirtieth birthday, and his soul shall revert to me._

“Sounds simple enough,” Yuuri remarked.

“ _Simple_?” Viktor echoed incredulously. “The only _simple_ thing about this is that I’m bound to _die_ all because I was a stupid teenager who wanted nothing more than to _win_!”

“Exactly,” Yuuri snapped. “You were promised that you would win any and _every_ skating event you entered.”

“Yes. Your point?”

“We just have to make sure you _don’t_ win. You can’t have walls of gold with a silver medal there.”

Viktor scoffed. “It’s not that simple, Yuuri. I made a deal with the _devil himself_ -”

“Technically, you only made a deal with a demon,” Yuuri interrupted him. “It was probably a lower level demon if he was willing to waste his time with a teenage soul. If you made a deal with the _devil himself_ , we’d be having a _much_ different conversation.”

Viktor gaped. “… _what_?”

“We’d have _no_ chance of breaking a deal with the devil himself. A demon, though, we can pull one over on.”

“’ _Pull one over on?_ ’” Viktor echoed, blinking owlishly at his fiancé.

“Yes. We’re going to break the deal, obviously.”

“ _Break the deal?_ What the _fuck_ , Yuuri?”

Yuuri paused, staring at Viktor in confusion. “Do you not _want_ to break the deal? Do you _want_ to die, Viktor?”

His fiancé scoffed. “Of course not! I want to live and skate and _marry you_ and-”

Yuuri flushed at the last item on the list as he smiled. “Then we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

“I- _Yuuri_ -”

But it was too late; Yuuri was already grabbing his laptop with one hand while he furiously typed on his phone with the other.

Viktor had never felt so simultaneously intimidated and _safe_ in his life.

[Devil, Devil]

Viktor was in bed long before Yuuri was done with his scheming – because anything that went against a demon deserved to be called something more than just _planning_ – but he couldn’t fall asleep. He needed his Yuuri by his side, especially after telling him something like _that._

It was nearly midnight by the time Yuuri tiptoed into the room, the slight _creak_ of the door waking Makkachin enough for her to lift her head. Seeing that it was just Yuuri, she settled down once more, her tail thumping happily on the bed.

“What took so long?” Viktor whispered, causing Yuuri to freeze.

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Yuuri said instead of an answer.

“The bed was too cold,” Viktor responded, peeling the covers back for Yuuri to climb in beside him.

Yuuri smiled slightly, changing into his sleep pants and pulling his shirt off his body, tossing it in a corner to deal with in the morning. He patted Makkachin, kissing her fondly on the head before crawling in beside Viktor.

Face to face now, Viktor kissed the tip of Yuuri’s nose, smiling at him happily. “How do you know so much about this, anyway?” Viktor asked. “Breaking demon deals?”

Yuuri was silent as he searched Viktor’s face. Viktor let him take all the time he needed, but he was disappointed when Yuuri rolled away from him to face the wall.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Viktor murmured, reaching an arm around Yuuri’s waist.

“Look,” Yuuri said quickly, his voice muffled by his pillow. “Just… _look_.”

Viktor allowed his eyes to roam the expanse of Yuuri’s back: the slender shape, the strong muscles, the bruise on his side from yesterday’s training, the black demon mark-

 _The black demon mark_.

“I sold my soul for more confidence,” Yuuri murmured. “My anxiety was so bad, and- he was waiting on a beach one day. You know how parents always tell their children to never take candy from strangers? They never said anything about making deals with demons.” There was a pause, then, “I was ten.”

Viktor sucked in a sharp breath. “My Yuuri…you were so young.”

“So were you,” he countered, rolling to see Viktor’s face again. “I was lucky with my deal, though. His words were, ‘You will become a star performer on the ice, and your nerves will be gone when you skate for an audience. In exchange, upon your twentieth birthday, you shall die. Your soul shall revert to me.’”

Viktor’s eyes widened, his arm drawing Yuuri closer so they were chest to chest. “Then how are you alive?”

Yuuri smiled wanly. “I broke the deal, of course. We’ll do the same for you.”

“But…how?”

“We’ll just have to make sure you don’t win gold-”

“No, Yuuri,” Viktor pressed. “How did you break _your_ deal?”

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said. “I just…got stage fright. The deal worked like a placebo,” Yuuri explained. “The first performance after the deal, I thought I would be fine – so I was. I did really well; that was my first gold medal. The next time, though, the nerves were worse than usual. There were expectations that I would do as well or better than my last competition, and it only got worse by the third competition. And by the fourth…” Yuuri chuckled weakly. “Apparently, nerves are just another form of anxiety for me. I was standing in the middle of the ice, staring at all those people watching – the _judges_ – and I froze. I couldn’t move.” Yuuri paused. “And then I felt like I was burning.” Viktor’s hand instantly covered the black mark on Yuuri’s hip. “The deal was void…and the mark changed to show it. I guess my demon didn’t know that emotions are rather difficult to change. He never even came back to talk about it – the mark just changed and…that was that.”

“But Yuuri,” Viktor murmured, “my deal doesn’t have anything to do with emotions.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yuuri agreed, “but it does require you to be perfect and _other_ people to be less good or _not_ perfect. Every additional factor makes the deal harder to keep. Up until now, it’s been rather easy for your demon to guarantee your success. Nobody has had a program that could technically match yours, and you’re too stubborn to be anything less than perfect – even if the deal didn’t guarantee you gold.”

“And now?”

Yuuri smirked. “Now, it’s time for your student to surpass his master. Or… _one_ of the Yuris will,” he added thoughtfully.

[Devil, Devil]

Yuuri had a plan, that much was certain. Viktor just wasn’t sure _what_ the plan was – at least, he wasn’t sure until Yuuri presented him with a program layout complete with detailed notes and base values.

Viktor looked it over, noticing the presence of two quad lutzes, a quad flip, quad salchow, and quad toe. “Yuuri?” he asked, looking up questioningly. “How is _increasing_ my base value going to help me _lose_?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “That’s not _your_ layout, Viktor. That one is for _me_.”

Viktor’s eyes widened. “What? But Yuuri, you have trouble landing _one_ quad lutz in a program as it is!”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Are you saying I can’t do it?”

He felt a thrill of satisfaction run through him when he saw Viktor immediately shake his head, stammering out a reply. “No, no! Of course not! You’re incredible, Yuuri! It’s just…”

“Just what?” Yuuri prompted him.

“Just…are you sure you can do this?” Viktor asked, gesturing to the page in front of him.

“Am I sure that I can save your life?” Yuuri countered sternly. “ _Yes._ ”

[Devil, Devil]

Yuuri showed his determination every day for the next two months. He trained harder than Viktor had ever seen before, even harder than when Yuuri had first made his comeback with Viktor as his coach. Nearly every day, he was finishing practice an hour or more after Viktor, his unnatural stamina (was _that_ from a demon deal, too?) the only thing that kept him upright long after a normal skater would have fallen flat on the ice.

Going into Worlds, the last competition of the season for both of them, Viktor felt confident that if _anyone_ could beat him, it would be Yuuri – but there was still that lingering doubt of _what if_ and _impending death_ that awaited him at the end of next year. If this didn’t work…if Viktor didn’t come home with something _other_ than gold…

He didn’t want to think about it.

“If it makes you feel better, we have a backup plan,” Yuuri said casually as he zipped up his team jacket to cover his costume.

“’We?’” Viktor echoed, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Yurio and me. You have a base value of 100.62. Yurio’s base value is just over a tenth of a point higher, and I’ve only got a half point advantage over the both of you. That might not be enough, and we’re not taking any chances here, Viktor,” Yuuri said more seriously, “not when your life is on the line.”

The results from yesterday’s short program had left Viktor in first, Yurio in second, and Yuuri in third – but with such tight scores, a single misstep or fumble would mean the difference in their medals. As a result, all three were in the same warmup group, which made Viktor acting as Yuuri’s coach a bit more difficult for those six minutes. Luckily, Yuuri didn’t need much coaching during warmups anymore. He knew how to get out of his head – especially when there was something important for him to focus on.

The six minutes were over way too quickly, and Christophe was on the ice to open the final group of skaters. Neither Yuuri nor Viktor watched. Instead, they waited quietly in the athlete’s area, Yuuri walking through his program again and again as he marked his jumps, eyeing Viktor every few seconds.

“I’m okay, Yuuri,” Viktor assured him when Yuuri finally settled down. The third skater was halfway through his program, and Viktor would need to go next. “If this doesn’t work…we still have next season,” he said, his words more to convince himself than to convince Yuuri.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Viktor, it’s going to work. I _will_ save you – and if _I_ don’t, then Yurio is prepared to attempt every single quad just to break your world record. Go skate your heart out, Viktor, and prepare to lose,” he said with a grin.

Viktor felt strangely like crying, but he refused to let those emotions take control of him before his program. He forced the tears to _stay in there dammit,_ and instead, he returned Yuuri’s smile.

“Go find Yakov. It’s almost time for you to go on,” Yuuri told him.

Viktor nodded sharply, wrapping his arms around Yuuri and _squeezing_ as if his life depended on it.

Neither of them mentioned that it sort of _did_.

Yuuri had told Viktor to skate his heart out, and he did – the program was impeccable, and so was the score: 223.90, a new season’s best and just shy of the world record, for a total score of 330.76.

Yuuri tried not to think about how he’d barely crossed 210 before. That was then; this was _now_ , and Viktor’s life depended on it.

“Yuuri!” Viktor called from the side of the rink, his team Russia jacket looking very un-coach-like. The cameras followed Yuuri as he skated across the ice, meeting Viktor for one final pep talk. “Yuuri…”

Yuuri smiled. “You don’t have to say anything, Viktor. I can do this.”

“I love you, Yuuri – no matter what, do you understand me?” Viktor said seriously.

“I love you, too, Viktor. Now… _watch me_ ,” Yuuri demanded fiercely before pushing away from the boards, holding Viktor’s gaze a moment longer than he normally would. _Watch me save you._

He'd run his program every day, practicing it over and over until he could do the jumps on pure muscle memory – and then he'd practiced it some more when Viktor wasn't around, making sure he could account for any last minute change he would decide to make.

And with a score like Viktor's...

Yuuri took a deep breath, getting into his starting pose and waiting for the music. The first notes played, and he was off – not for the skate of his life, but for Viktor's.

The first jump was a quad lutz combination. He was up – one jump, two, and it was clean. One jumping pass down, six more to go. The next jump went just as smoothly, and before he knew it, he found himself dancing away in his step sequence. His quad flip was next, but after that...

His program was supposed to have two triple axels. It was supposed to be a five-quad program, but if he made it _six_...

He'd practiced this, of course. He'd hoped he wouldn't need to push this hard because even _his_ stamina wasn't nearly enough for six quads, especially with them being so late in the program, but Viktor had set a high bar. There was no other choice.

He was supposed to have a solo triple axel in the program, but instead, he set himself up for – yes! Quad loop! – and he landed it, his free leg a little tight coming out on the landing, but he hoped it would be enough.

Only three jumping passes left – three jumping passes between him and Viktor's life. Triple axel-half loop-triple flip, then quad toe-triple toe. Finally, the quad salchow that was supposed to be where the quad loop was came, and he was almost home free. Just another few seconds, a couple of spins, and-

The sweat poured down his face as he froze in his final pose, eyes unseeing as his face turned toward the ceiling.

 _Please_ , he prayed, _please let that have been enough_.

Cheers flooded the stadium as Yuuri felt his legs wobble, his strength quickly waning.

 _Please_.

He bowed quickly to the audience, racing for the exit – racing for Viktor.

“What was _that_?” Viktor asked as Yuuri stepped off the ice.

“You mean how I skated a clean program with _six_ quads and _two_ quad lutzes?” Yuuri asked breathlessly, allowing Viktor to help him slip on his team jacket.

“No, Yuuri; I mean- yes, _six quads_ and you’re _utterly insane_ for doing it, but the _quad loop_ instead of a triple axel! What was that?!”

“That,” Yuuri said, turning around to face Viktor as they settled in the kiss and cry, “was me _saving your life._ ”

“But where did you _learn_ that?” Viktor pressed, staring at his fiancé in awe.

Yuuri didn’t need to answer, though; on the ice behind him amidst the sweepers was Yurio, who had just landed his quad loop as he warmed up for his free program. “None of us want to see you _dead_ , Viktor,” Yuuri said seriously, then smirked. “Yurio _might_ have also been a little more willing to help after I promised him that one of us would finally dethrone you. I think you’ll look nice with silver around you neck, don’t you agree?”

Viktor was left gaping as Yuuri winked, his face out of view of the camera, before turning back to the screen to await his scores. By the time Viktor could focus again, he had missed Yuuri’s total score, but could make out the announcer saying, “… _a new world record. He is currently in first place_.”

The noise in the stadium grew exponentially, cheers and screams of shock all being expressed at once as the scores were shown on the screen: Yuuri’s score of 331.98 nudged Viktor’s into second place.

_Second place._

And quietly, to Yuuri alone, Viktor said, “Yuuri…you’re simply incredible.”

Yuuri didn’t feel the satisfaction of winning for a long time; not after Yuri’s scores came in, falling just a fraction of a point shy of his own and dropping Viktor to the bronze medal position, nor after they had all ascended the podium together. Even when Yuri breathed a threatening, “I’m coming for your medal next,” through a photo-grin smile, Yuuri only felt one thing: _relief._

Viktor would live.

Yuuri would get to _keep_ Viktor.

[Devil, Devil]

Viktor’s mark wasn’t black when he changed out of his costume; it was still the burning, haunting red of an active deal, looking like a fresh brand on his chest. Later that night when they had retreated to the quiet of their hotel room, there was still no change when Viktor removed his shirt for bed. At 3am when Yuuri woke up, restless and stressed that _Viktor is going to die and I couldn’t save him_ , the mark was still red like fire.

And when they awoke the next morning, the room silent as both sets of eyes went to the mark, it was still as red as fresh blood.

“How do you call him?” Yuuri finally asked after they had sat through a tense breakfast from room service with still no change to Viktor’s chest.

“I…I don’t know. I’ve never had to before. I didn’t know you _could_ call them,” Viktor said helplessly.

Yuuri groaned. “Try…oh, I don’t know, maybe pressing on it or something?” he suggested. In truth, he had never needed to call _his_ demon, either. He knew he _could_ , but he’d never figured out how – he’d never _tried_.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, but he reached up his shirt and felt around the mark nonetheless.

Then the room went black.

When the darkness cleared, they were no longer alone. “Viktor Nikiforov,” the demon greeted with a predatory smile.

He looked like any other clean-cut businessman with his perfectly tailored black suit, black dress shirt, and leather shoes. He could have been any ISU official for the banquet that night – if ISU officials traded in souls instead of monetary bribes.

Viktor gulped, looking nervously at Yuuri. While Yuuri might have cowered if this were _his_ demon, someone who had a hold on his soul, this was someone threatening _Viktor_.

He didn’t like that.

“Your deal for Viktor’s soul is broken,” Yuuri declared with no introduction.

The demon raised an eyebrow. “No, it’s not. I have made sure that Viktor has won _everything_ , and in a few short years, I’ll return to collect my bounty.”

“No,” Yuuri simply replied.

“ _Yes._ ”

“ _No,_ ” Yuuri said again, tossing that morning’s paper at the demon’s feet. “Viktor won _bronze_. Your deal is void.”

The demon’s eyes widened, his gaze dropping to the paper’s headline: _FIGURE SKATING’S NEW WORLD CHAMPION, YUURI KATSUKI_. Smaller, the subheading proclaimed: _Viktor Nikiforov’s Gold Streak Ends with Bronze._

The demon’s jaw dropped, revealing pointy teeth – the only outward indication except for his piercing red eyes that he wasn’t human. He quickly recovered, kicking the paper with his shoe and causing it to burst into flames. “How do I know that’s _real_? One could easily fake a newspaper.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes as Viktor raised an eyebrow, addressing his demon for the first time. “You’re telling me that you _didn’t_ watch the competition?”

The demon scoffed. “I haven’t watched one of your competitions in years. There’s nobody of your caliber; I haven’t had to interfere since your first World Championship win, and even then, I just needed to make sure one teensy-weensy quad got popped into a double. You would have won silver.”

Yuuri filed that away for a discussion much, _much_ later, absorbing the knowledge that Viktor had done practically _everything_ on his own. He hadn’t really needed the demon after all; the demon needed _Viktor_.

But he wouldn’t have him.

“Check any skating website,” Yuuri said instead, “or ask any skating fan. Look at our medals – or the certificates, if you won’t believe the fact that _I_ earned the gold this time and not Viktor. He didn’t even earn silver. Your deal is most certainly broken.” Yuuri pulled out the certificates they had been given, their names inscribed below their placements.

The demon blanched, staring at the papers in horror. “But- but _nobody_ could possibly beat Viktor!” he protested.

Yuuri smiled wryly. “How kind it is for you to call me a nobody when, in fact, _two_ people beat Viktor yesterday. Face it; you’ve lost a soul with your carelessness. The deal is off.”

“But- you can’t- he- _ugh_!” the demon screeched. “How _dare_ you, little boy? Who do you think you are?!”

“Yuuri Katsuki, the new men’s World Champion. Oh, and I’ve also successfully broken _two_ demon deals now, but they didn’t come with a gold medal,” Yuuri quipped. “You _don’t_ want to try to cross me.”

Recognition filled the demon’s eyes, the hotel lights sparkling off his red irises and making them seem even more inhuman. “Fine, then,” the demon bit out. “You’ve won – this time. Never again, though. I may have lost _this_ deal, but I shall lose no more.”

Viktor gasped, wincing as he grabbed at his chest. He quickly unbuttoned his crisp dress shirt to reveal a red mark that was quickly turning black as it charred the flesh beneath it.

“I had better never meet _either_ of you again,” the demon threatened, raising his hand and bringing his fingers together.

“You best hope you don’t meet _us_ ,” Yuuri returned, his eyes hard and determined.

With a snap of his fingers, the demon was gone.

And Viktor’s life…

“I’m free,” Viktor whispered in wonder. “Yuuri, you _freed_ me!”

Yuuri grinned, pulling Viktor into his arms. Viktor’s shirt quickly grew damp with both of their tears, but neither cared. “I get to _keep you_ ,” Yuuri said finally, more relieved than he’d ever been in his life. “Please, Viktor – marry me. Marry me _now_ and marry me tomorrow and marry me _again and again_.”

And to each offer, Viktor said, “ _Yes_.”


	2. Devil, Devil: After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being told that his own scores hadn’t been affected by his demon deal, Viktor refuses to acknowledge the truth. When Yuuri confronts him about his deal only to hear Viktor deny his talent yet again, he finds the perfect way to get through to his stubborn fiancé.

Viktor knew deep down that they would eventually need to _talk_ about everything. They couldn’t just ignore the fact that Yuuri had outwitted a demon and convinced him not to steal Viktor’s soul, nor the fact that Viktor had neglected to tell Yuuri that he’d been inching closer to a predestined death with every breath he took. Still, he’d hoped that they could have that talk in, oh, maybe eighty years or so.

But of _course_ Yuuri wouldn’t forget to talk about something like this; of course he’d be kind and calm and gentle as he sat Viktor down before bed one evening, his soothing demeanor trying to wash away all the worries Viktor had held for years despite Yuuri’s obvious discomfort with the topic.

Yuuri drew Viktor’s hand into his lap, fidgeting with his fiancé’s slender fingers. “Viktor…how closely were you paying attention to what your demon said?” he asked cautiously.

Viktor hummed in thought, growing sleepy in Yuuri’s arms. “Not too much. I was…a little out of it. Overwhelmed.”

Yuuri nodded – he had expected as much. “Did you hear him talk about not watching your scores?”

“Yes.”

“And the part about not intervening since your first world title?” Viktor stilled in Yuuri’s arms, saying nothing. “Viktor?” Yuuri prompted.

“I heard him,” Viktor reluctantly confirmed. He sighed. “It’s not true, Yuuri – it can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because- because I’m not that good. I’m a skater with average talent, a stubborn streak as big as an ocean, and a _demon deal_ that ensured I won everything.” Viktor squeezed his eyes closed. “We both know I won’t be able to win from here on out – not against you or Yurio or Chris or _any_ decent skater.”

Yuuri scoffed. “Where did you get a silly idea like _that_?”

“You’ve seen my scores.”

“I have,” Yuuri responded immediately, a vague tone of awe still coloring his voice even after all these years.

“You’ve surely seen how inflated they are. They should be _much_ lower,” Viktor said in disgust.

Yuuri stared at him in confusion. “Inflated…?” he echoed. “The only time your scores have been anything _close_ to the definition of ‘inflated’ was at the Olympics – and _everyone’s_ scores were inflated there! They _always_ do that at the Olympics. What are you- Viktor, I don’t understand.”

Viktor shook his head determinedly. “That’s not true, Yuuri. Time and time again, I’ve been given scores I don’t deserve.”

Yuuri muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Yeah, _lower_ ones,” but Viktor wasn’t given a chance to ask him to repeat his words. Instead, Yuuri addressed Viktor with a forceful tone that suggested he was talking to a petulant child. “Viktor, you are _not_ being chronically overscored.”

“But I have _proof_!” Viktor protested.

“Proof?” Yuuri echoed gently, raising an eyebrow challengingly. “Viktor, do you have footage of ISU officials conspiring to inflate your scores like they did the ladies’ competition at the 2014 Olympics?”

Viktor looked ready to cry. “Yuuri, you don’t believe me?” He sounded distressed, and it hurt Yuuri’s heart to see him in such a state.

“Viktor, why don’t _you_ believe _me_? Or the demon, for that matter?”

Viktor ignored his words, standing abruptly to fish out the same worn notebook that he’d been keeping in his skate bag since he was a teenager. “Look,” he said, flipping the notebook to one of its earliest pages and pointing at the heading.

Yuuri wasn’t fluent in Russian yet, but he’d translated enough skating protocols and was familiar enough with Viktor’s handwriting to be able to easily figure out that it was from the 2009 Russian Championships. There was a list of elements written, clearly split into short and free program, and the judges’ scores next to them in black letters. Overtop, numbers were scribbled in angry red writing – lower numbers.

“This was your third championship win,” Yuuri said in confusion. “But…Viktor, what am I looking at?”

“The inflation!” Viktor exclaimed in frustration.

Yuuri hummed thoughtfully, looking at the scores and recalling what he could from Viktor’s early Senior seasons. “I mean, this is maybe 5 points or so over what you’d been scoring internationally that season, but domestic competitions always-”

Viktor let out a huff. “ _No_ , Yuuri. Go to the next page!”

_2009 European Championship_. And the next page, _2009_ _World Championship_.

All elements listed, all scores crossed out and shrunken – shrunken in self-hatred, in the disbelief that he’d _earned_ the numbers the judges awarded him.

“ _Viktor_ …” Yuuri crooned, shutting the notebook before he could turn another page. He couldn’t stand it. That was…it was something _Yuuri_ would do, not self-confident Viktor who’d won every World Championship he’d entered-

…because he’d made a deal with a demon, just like Yuuri.

Yuuri pulled Viktor into his arms, clutching him tightly to his chest as Viktor allowed his head to rest in the crook of Yuuri’s neck. They stayed liked that, neither moving for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Yuuri noticed that Viktor’s breathing had evened out, his body going limp in Yuuri’s arms. Yuuri hefted him into a better position to carry him, settling him gently on the bed and tucking the blankets around him.

Viktor looked so much smaller surrounded by the white comforter, so much more vulnerable with Makkachin clung tightly to his chest like a child with a worn teddy bear. The demon had hurt Viktor in ways that the contract hadn’t specified, and Yuuri was determined to fix it.

[After]

Yuuri had gotten home already, a normal occurrence since Viktor had been spending more and more time at the rink perfecting his jumps. He needed the practice now that he didn’t have a demon making sure he succeeded.

“Viktor,” Yuuri’s warm voice echoed through the apartment, but there was an edge to it that didn’t sit right with Viktor. Curious, he followed the sound of his fiancé’s voice past the kitchen to the couch where Yuuri and Makkachin were settled. “Sit down. We’re watching TV together,” Yuuri said with no introduction. He shoved a tray of lo mien toward Viktor and pointed with his own fork at the empty space on the couch.

Still a bit stunned, Viktor did as he was told, not even taking off his jacket. “What are we-” But his answer was already on the screen, a YouTube background framing an older video of _him_ , long hair frozen as it flowed behind him in the paused video from the 2009 Russian Nationals.

Yuuri pulled up the protocols for the event on his laptop, a notepad sitting next to it on the coffee table. “Alright, Viktor; put your judge’s hat on.”

“ _What_?”

“We’re rescoring every single one of your performances until you believe me and your stupid demon that your scores were _never_ inflated.”

The room was silent as Viktor’s jaw dropped. It took him a minute to process what Yuuri had just said before he could finally speak.

“But he _intervened_ -”

“At _one event_ , and Mr. Dark-and-Demonic freely admitted that he didn’t mess with _your_ score at all; he messed with a competitor. If you ask me, it’s probably because your program was already so close to perfection that he couldn’t have helped you much anyway,” Yuuri finished offhandedly.

“But he-”

Yuuri glared – _glared_ – which was a rare event in itself. The fact that it was directed at _Viktor_ served to shock the man into silence, just as Yuuri had hoped it would. “We will be watching _every single one_ of your performances until you _listen to me_ ,” he said sternly. “We are doing this by the book. If you don’t believe me at any point, we’re pulling out the ISU rulebook.”

“But-” Viktor tried to protest again.

“No ‘buts!’” Yuuri took his phone in hand again. “Now, eyes on the screen, Viktor. We’ve got almost ten years of competitions to get through. And remember, this competition was still on the old +3 GOE system.”

Before Viktor could protest further, Yuuri had started the video. “Opening triple axel,” Yuuri murmured under his breath seconds before the longhaired teenager on the screen turned and vaulted into the jump. Viktor was forcefully reminded once more that his fiancé was probably the biggest Viktor Nikiforov fan in existence. “Good air position, good entry and exit, matched to the music…” he muttered to himself, writing the element and its value on the notebook and writing +2 next to it. “What do you think, Viktor?”

“What do I think?” he echoed, still dumbfounded.

Yuuri paused the footage. “Yeah, what GOE are you giving it?”

“I- we’re _really_ doing this?”

Instead of words, Yuuri just tapped his pen on the notebook. “The GOE?” Viktor was silent for a moment, then grudgingly agreed it was worthy of a +2.

The evening continued in the same vein. After every element, Yuuri paused the video, asking questions like, “Did that match the music?” or “Did you have a clear increase in speed on that spin?” Viktor was getting very frustrated; Yuuri’s words were a clear recitation of the ISU criteria, which only served to further grate on Viktor’s nerves – mostly because Yuuri was _right_. His fiancé had the uncanny ability to assign GOEs in a split second, fully backed by the criteria in the ISU rulebook, and nine times out of ten, they matched Viktor’s old protocols (and when they didn’t match, Viktor was shocked to find that he had been _under_ scored). It was eye opening, to say the least, and a bit…unsettling.

Okay, _overwhelmingly_ unsettling. Nearly his whole career, Viktor’s results had always been tinged with the thoughts of _fraud-cheater-fake-undeserving_ , and to find out that his performances had never _once_ been altered in any way?

“Viktor?” Yuuri asked hesitantly when he noticed his fiancé hadn’t moved or spoken in nearly an entire program, hadn’t argued once over a number or tried to insist the judges were wrong yet again. “Vitya, you okay?”

“…are you both telling me the truth?” Viktor asked, his voice so quiet that if Yuuri hadn’t been watching his lips, he might have thought the gentle sound was just the wind outside their apartment.

“Vitya, have I ever lied to you?”

“…no.”

“Then why would I start now about something like _this_?”

“But you’ve always been my _fan_ and I know that you think my programs are perfect and-”

Placing gentle hands on either side of Viktor’s face, Yuuri looked into his eyes. “Vitya? Vitya, I need you to listen to me. Yes, I am a fan of your skating.” Viktor looked down, refusing to make eye contact again. “No, Vitya, _listen_. I am a fan of your skating; you’re an amazing skater, and I’d be insane not to appreciate that. I am a fan of your skating, but I _love_ you, Vitya, okay? I would never lie to you about something like this.”

Viktor glanced up again, hesitantly raising a hand to place over Yuuri’s on his cheek. “And the demon?”

Yuuri chuckled darkly. “Demons, though self-serving, tend to be brutally honest. They follow their words to the letter, which is how we were _both_ able to break our deals. There was no reason for your demon to lie to you about your past results, and it _certainly_ isn’t like any demon I’ve ever met to lie at all – not when it comes to deals like these.”

Quirking an eyebrow and finally cracking just the hint of a smile, Viktor asked, “And how many demons _have_ you met?”

“Enough,” Yuuri answered with a smirk, which only served to make Viktor more determined to get _those_ stories out of him someday soon. “Now, do you understand what I was trying to show you? Can you see that you legitimately earned all of your medals?”

“Not the first gold at Worlds,” Viktor countered.

“No,” Yuuri agreed carefully, “but that wasn’t a fault of your score, just how your demon altered your competitor’s performance. Can we agree on that?”

“…I suppose.”

“Good,” Yuuri said finally, placing a kiss first on Viktor’s forehead, then gently on his lips. “I have one more thing for us to do tonight.”

“What’s that?” Viktor asked cautiously, having already been exposed to one of Yuuri’s evening ideas.

Standing from the couch, Yuuri reached for a bag tucked high on the trophy cabinet, then withdrew Viktor’s first World Championship gold medal from behind the glass. He handed Viktor the poisoned medal, then from the shopping bag withdrew a small container of metallic silver paint. With a grin, Yuuri said, “I think it’s time for a little arts and crafts, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had enough inspiration for one more part to this story - I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> This was vaguely inspired by the song "Devil, Devil" by MILCK. Thanks for reading!


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